Night fell on Tony Stark's Villa in Malibu.
The modern-style building overlooked the sea from the cliff, and the entire space exuded a sense of loneliness. The waves crashed against the rocks with a dull 'thump', but Tony wasn't listening at all. His mind was filled with another kind of 'noise'—a fear and anxiety from deep within, like a silent storm in the night, sweeping away all his peace.
Having experienced the nightmare-like alien invasion in New York, Tony's World was completely torn apart.
It was just the first week after the alien invasion.
Finally, his mental state became riddled with holes.
During the day, he always pretended as if nothing had happened, but at night, those fears would surge up uncontrollably, breaking through his fragile defenses.
Tony Stark sat alone in his laboratory, his eyes bloodshot, surrounded by scattered tools and various unfinished Iron Armor. The reflection of every metal component seemed to mock him: a former tech genius, billionaire, and 'Iron Man', trapped in his own fear and anxiety.
Tony rubbed his temples, the roars of the Chitauri army and the roar of explosions still seeming to echo in his ears. His heart pounded fast, as if firmly gripped by an invisible claw, making it hard to breathe. He once thought that building the Iron Armor was the ultimate answer—an answer to protect himself, to protect those he loved, and even to protect the entire World. But now, this answer had left him lost in his own World of Iron.
Pepper was asleep, and Tony could have quietly leaned beside her, enjoying a moment of peace. However, he couldn't fall asleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the scene of the Battle of New York would appear in his mind: the Chitauri, the bombing, the fire, and even the ordinary people he couldn't save. Amidst these endless images, he seemed to also see Pepper—standing there helplessly, calling his name, while he was powerless to protect her.
Tony's fingers tapped lightly on the desk, and he began to unconsciously design new Iron Armor for himself.
Mark XLVII, Mark XLVIII, the numbers kept jumping up, but his thoughts remained stuck in an endless fear. These Iron Armor, like his fortress, were also his shackles. He feared everything outside, yet he dared not stop working. Even in extreme exhaustion, he wouldn't allow himself to stop—stopping meant letting fear take over, and he would never let himself show weakness.
His fingertips touched a glove that was being modified, and the cold metal instantly transmitted to his heart. He thought of Pepper's face, and the question she had once asked him: "Are you going to keep doing this? Living in the Iron Armor?" There was worry in her eyes, and even a hint of pain. Tony wanted to protect her, but he also knew that his anxiety and fear were already affecting her. He knew that if this continued, he might lose her sooner or later, and this thought made him even more anxious.
The laboratory lights cast Tony's shadow on the wall, making him appear lonely and fragile. The outer Iron Armor could not conceal his inner fragility, he knew this clearly, but he was powerless to change it. He was trapped by the shadows of the past, and the anxiety in his heart spread like poison.
At this moment, Tony was both a tech genius and a prisoner tormented by his own heart. He sat in the World of Iron he had built, fearing the loss of everything, but not knowing how to break free. He gazed at the Iron Armor in his hands, as if searching for an answer, but also as if avoiding it.
"Jarvis," Tony's voice was hoarse, instructing the AI butler, "Bring up all the design ideas for the new Iron Armor, quickly."
"Yes, Mr.", Jarvis's voice was as calm as ever, but Tony knew that his anxiety was impossible to hide.
He began to draw, calculate, and assemble faster, as if only by working non-stop could he slightly escape the thoughts swirling in his mind. Tony couldn't shake off a nagging question: what if the battle of New York happened again, or even on a larger scale?
What if, in the future, he lost Pepper, lost everyone he cared about?
Every crash of the waves was like the lingering echo of the nuclear blast above New York. The Iron Armor became his only sanctuary, and also the new shackles he built day and night. As he thought, he built new defenses, seemingly trying to wrap himself in layers of metal shell, using feigned indifference to resist his inner vulnerability. But Tony knew that no matter how many Iron Armor he built, he couldn't dispel the helplessness in the dead of night—he was mortal, and the dangers of this World were far more uncontrollable than he had imagined.
Suddenly, the sound of crashing waves and wind seemed to fade away, and Tony fell into a deeper sense of loneliness. He looked around, the entire room was empty, only himself accompanied by machines in the silence. It was then he realized that even wearing Iron Armor, his heart was still naked. He feared death, but what he feared more was that those he desperately wanted to protect would die before his eyes because of his powerlessness.
Tony rubbed his temples, trying to make the thoughts that seemed to have troubled him all night stop. Just then, a voice inexplicably sounded in his mind—a low voice with a hint of sarcasm but not without power, as if it had directly penetrated his consciousness.
"Hey, Stark, you don't really think hiding in an iron can will solve everything, do you?" It was Dominic's voice, the comrade whose emotions he had once been unable to articulate. Tony's eyes widened, and he scanned the surroundings in confusion, then laughed at himself for imagining Dominic talking to him nearby.
"Damn it, Dominic, you couldn't possibly have actually come here to lecture me, could you?" Tony muttered self-mockingly. But in that instant, he realized—Dominic might actually be able to help him. After all, that guy wasn't a 'hero' in the usual sense; he seemed to live a much more carefree life than himself.
Tony scratched his messy hair, sighed lightly, and whispered to Jarvis, "Jarvis, pull up Dominic's contact information... uh, forget it, wait until tomorrow." He thought it was already late at night, and the other person probably wouldn't even bother to respond.
But that thought couldn't easily dissipate. He looked up at the wreckage of the Iron Armor in front of him and murmured softly, "Dominic, what exactly are you thinking?"
Just then, Jarvis's calm voice interrupted his contemplation: "Mr., do you need me to prepare some relaxing music?"
Tony hesitated for a while, then shook his head: "No, Jarvis, forget it. I can't sleep." He recalled Dominic's unrestrained smile, carrying an undisguised confidence, as if mocking everyone's fear of the future.
He supported his forehead with one hand, the corner of his mouth slightly turned up, regaining some of his former confidence: "That's right, Stark, you should go talk to Dominic, go tomorrow, it's not like you haven't done embarrassing things before anyway."
Thinking of this, he actually felt a slight sense of relief, as if the comrade who always brought him countless troubles could also bring a moment of liberation.
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(End of Chapter)